There's Always a Story - XX
by Beledi1113
Summary: No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story There's Always a Story, so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.
1. Chapter 1 Betrayal

There's Always a Story – XX

 **Summary** : No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story _There's Always a Story_ , so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.

 **AN** : So here's the final part of the story; it will probably be just 2 chapters, maybe 3. Thanks for reading. As usual, I don't own Castle or any of the characters other than the ones I make up for a story. And I used Google translate for the French, which may or may not be accurate, so my sincere apologies to any French speakers.

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 **Chapter 1**

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Voices floated through the periphery of her awareness as Beckett drifted in and out, their words landing briefly and then meandering lazily away, like a butterfly on a summer day, but some of the phrases stuck.

"Internal decapitation – long recovery – we'll see…"

Then they changed from hopeful to urgent – "Come on, girlfriend – you can do it." "Katie bug, just open your eyes for me…"

But she had no control over answering the pleas to wake up, to move, to do something to show them that she was still there, still alive, and the thick heavy blanket pinning her down wouldn't allow it.

The sobbing should have bothered her, but it didn't as she succumbed to the darkness that pulled at her greedily.

It will be better in the morning, she thought, but there was something nibbling at the corners of her consciousness that said it wouldn't be – it would never be the same again.

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The steady beep was annoying, drawing her back to consciousness when all she wanted was to go back to a dreamless sleep for just a while longer, to stay in this mindless state.

"Bonjour, madame," said a soft feminine voice near her head. "Je suis heureux de voir que vous êtes de retour avec nous."

Beckett coughed as she blinked her eyes open. They felt like sandpaper and she tried to reach up and rub them, only to find that her arm wouldn't move.

The speed of the beep increased as Beckett slowly came back to reality.

"Essaye de te calmer," the voice said.

Beckett realized that she should know what the woman was saying, she knew that language, was fluent in it, but her muddled brain couldn't translate the words into something intelligent.

She took a breath and coughed dryly again. "English, please?" she asked in a raspy voice.

"Oui, of course," said the woman in a thick French accent. "How about a few ice chips? That should help your throat."

Beckett nodded and then peered at the woman as she guided a spoon to her mouth. She was petite, dressed in sensible white, her hair pulled back into a bun, a stethoscope hung around her neck.

"There now, that's much better, I think," the woman said with a smile.

Beckett tried to look around as the ice chips melted, but found that her neck wouldn't move either. She suddenly felt claustrophobic by that fact that her body wouldn't obey her.

"It's all right," said the woman in a soothing voice, patting her shoulder. "You're all right. Your neck was injured and you were restrained to give it time to heal."

"Oh, okay," Beckett said as she blinked her eyes several times. "What – what happened?" Had she been chasing a prep and fallen? Or had she been driving? She couldn't quite remember.

"The doctor will explain everything," said the woman as she checked her watch. "He should be here in an hour or so. In the meantime, I'll undo your wrist restraints and set you up a little. That should be more comfortable."

"Thank you," Beckett said as the bed moved.

Now that she could see the room, she frowned slightly at the opulence. She was sure she had been in the hospital but this definitely wasn't one.

"Where…where am I?" Beckett asked.

The woman nodded as she checked the IV infusion pump. "The doctor will explain everything. But until then, my name is Simone and I'm here to make sure you are comfortable. Can you tell me your pain rating from a scale of 1 to 10?"

Beckett frowned again. Pain – she wasn't in pain – she just felt incredibly fuzzy, like she had had several glasses of the wine she liked. "None."

"That's good, then," Simone said. "Your little nap must have done its job. Perhaps some more ice chips?"

The woman spooned several more ice chips into Beckett's mouth as the detective looked around the room, trying to make sense of where she was.

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Beckett was dozing again when the door to the room opened and a jovial-looking man in a white coat walked in.

"Bonjour, Simone," he said with a slight Indian accent as the nurse handed him a chart. "Alors, comment est notre malade aujourd'hui?"

"She's doing very well," Simone answered in English as Beckett blinked her eyes open. "She had a restful evening and has had a glass of ice chips."

"Ah, excellent," said the man as he smiled at Beckett over the top of his reading glasses. "Welcome back. You had us worried for a while. I'm Dr. Krish; I'll be your attending physician while you are here."

"Thanks," said Beckett, licking her lips slightly to moisten them. "And where exactly is here?"

"We'll get to that in a minute," Dr. Krish said as he pulled a pen from his pocket and uncovered Beckett's feet. He ran the pen along the soles. "Tell me if you can feel that."

"Yeah, it tickles," Beckett answered.

"Good. Now press against my hand as hard as you can," he said, placing his hand against the sole of one foot and then the other. "And now," he said, placing his hand on top of her foot, "try not to let me press your foot down."

He seemed satisfied with the results and scribbled notes in her chart before handing it to Simone.

Dr. Krish took off his glasses and then sat down on the edge of Beckett's bed. "Ms. Beckett, I want you to think back to the last thing you remember – can you tell me what that is?"

Beckett nodded slightly, her neck still mostly immobile. She started to speak and then paused. What was the last thing that she remembered clearly?

She closed her eyes and thought back. There had been a murder – of course, there had been a murder – there was always a murder, in this case, two murders.

"The Coonan case," Beckett finally said. "Jack Coonan was murdered by a man named Hal Lockwood."

The details were hazy but slowly coming back. "And then Lockwood was murdered. Ryan and Esposito were bringing Dick Coonan to the precinct to interview him as a possible suspect."

She frowned as she tried to remember something, anything past that point, but couldn't. "That's it – that's all I remember." She regarded the doctor. "What happened? Was I in an accident?"

Dr. Krish studied her for a moment before speaking. "I wouldn't call what happened to you an accident. Detectives Ryan and Esposito did bring Coonan to the 12th precinct, but while he was there, Coonan attacked you and Captain Montgomery. That's how you were injured.

"Coonan slammed you against the wall hard enough to cause a concussion and severe whiplash. We've been monitoring you since then."

Beckett looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand," she stuttered. "Why would he do that?"

Dr. Krish nodded. "We have our theories, but nothing concrete yet."

He patted her leg as her brow furrowed in concentration. "That's all right. It's not uncommon in these types of injuries to have memory gaps. I doubt you'll ever remember the incident," Dr. Krish stated matter-of-factly.

Beckett closed her eyes for a moment, trying to imagine the scene. Suddenly her eyes flew open.

"You said Captain Montgomery was also attacked – how is he?" she asked.

Dr. Krish took a deep breath. "Captain Montgomery is dead."

"No, no," Beckett said in disbelief, remembering not to shake her head. "How?"

"Coonan took…a gun and shot him," Dr. Krish said simply.

Tears ran out of the corners of Beckett's eyes and she brought a hand up to wipe them away angrily. "Kevin and Javi – are they okay?" she whispered.

Dr. Krish nodded. "They're fine. They weren't hurt."

Beckett steeled herself as her mind raced with thoughts of the things that needed to be taken care of now. "Okay, okay – how soon can I be released?"

"And that's the problem," said Dr. Krish. "As I said, we think we know why this happened. And right now, this is the best place for you to be."

Beckett tried to shake her head. "No, I have to be back with my team, working this case."

Dr. Krish looked at her sadly as he stood and pulled an envelope from a pocket. "He said you'd be stubborn," he said as he handed her the envelope. "I think this will explain everything, Ms. Beckett. And as to where you are, you're in a small town outside of Paris."

Dr. Krish nodded at Simone and then back at Beckett. "Just push the button if you need anything."

Beckett looked at the envelope addressed to her and then back up as the doctor and Simone walked out of the room.

She would recognize Roy Montgomery's neat handwriting anywhere and she opened the sealed envelope to find another, smaller envelope inside that had also been sealed. Neither showed signs of tampering, so she opened the smaller envelope and pulled out the sheet inside with some trepidation.

'Kate, if you're reading this – well, it's not good news. It means that I'm dead and can't protect you anymore. And since I can't be there, I've made arrangements that I hope you'll comply with.

'So the first question you'll ask is, is this really me, Roy Montgomery? The answer is yes. Remember the first time we met, after hours in the evidence room? You were just a beat cop then, not even supposed to be there, but there you were, pouring over your mother's file. I knew then what type of policeman you'd be, what a damn fine detective you'd make.

'Your second question is why do you need protection? The answer is simple – when I was a rookie, I made a terrible mistake and my partners convinced me to cover it up because we would have all gone to prison. And what I started was an avalanche that buried people along the way.

'This is hard to write, probably even harder for you to read, but I wasn't always a shining example. Back in the day, we were shaking down mobsters and holding them for ransom. We thought we were doing right – ridding the streets of the worst of the worst, making them pay, but we were no better than they were.

'One night, we went to pick up a mobster named Joe Pulgatti and a man was with him in the alley – Bob Armen. We struggled and Armen got my gun. He shot himself with it and died there in the alley. What we didn't know was that Armen was an undercover FBI agent.

'We had a benefactor who made it all go away for a price, who could put the blame on Pulgatti, and he did.'

Beckett frowned as she lowered the piece of paper. Where had she heard that name before? She lifted the piece of paper and started to read again, her hand shaking slightly.

'Pulgatti was sentenced to life in prison but years later, contacted several lawyers to reopen his case. Kate, your mother was the only one who responded. She was looking into what happened that night when she was killed.'

No, no, thought Beckett. This is a nightmare that I just need to wake up from.

'I'm so sorry, Kate. If I had just confessed to what happened, your mother would still be alive and you'd probably be a lawyer, not a cop laying it all on the line every day.

'As to why you need protection, we gave our benefactor all of the money we had collected from the shake-downs and went cold turkey. But I knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with just that in the long run, that we would always be a threat and he'd come after us one day – to keep me from talking and you from finding out what happened to your mother.

'So I made arrangements with a friend to keep you safe if anything happened to me. He was to take you some place where the man can't reach you. And that's where you are now and I pray that you stay there.

'Kate, you're the best I've ever trained and I'm truly sorry – my spectacular sin has gnawed at me every day – that I'm the person responsible for all the pain and suffering in your life. I don't expect you to, but I hope someday that you can forgive me.'

The letter was simply signed RM.

For several long moments, Beckett just stared at the piece of paper and then fisted it in her hand, the pit of her stomach churning in anger and betrayal.

Montgomery had been her mentor and her friend, but he had known all along what had happened to her mother; he could have said something at any time, but he chose not to. And now he was gone and she was…in Paris of all places…and couldn't get justice for her mother.

Beckett then did something she hadn't done since she was 19 and her mother had just been murdered – she rolled on her side and cried herself to sleep.

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	2. Chapter 2 Buried Alive

There's Always a Story – XX

 **Summary** : No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story _There's Always a Story_ , so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.

 **AN** : Again, thanks for all the follows, favs, and reviews; you make writing fanfic worth it. Oh, yeah, and as much as I would like to, I don't own Castle, only the extra characters I create for a story. And sorry, this is going slower than what I'd like because it's actually turning out to be longer than expected.

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 **Chapter 2 – Buried Alive**

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Later in the day, Beckett woke in a sullen mood, aggravated by Simone's cheerfulness as the nurse described the regime that Dr. Krish prescribed for getting her back on her feet. A sturdily built attendant stood by the side of the bed, ready to help in the process.

"First," said Simone, "we will move the bed into a sitting position and when you're comfortable with that, we will get you standing. It may be only for a few minutes right now. And then we'll have you walking short distances."

Seeing the frown on Beckett's face, she quickly added. "But don't worry – how do they say it, you'll be as fit as a fiddle in no time."

The attendant carefully handled the tubes and wires attached to Beckett as Simone walked to the other side of the bed.

"So, if you are ready, we will begin. Just let me know if it becomes too much and we can stop for a moment," the nurse said, pushing a button.

Beckett startled slightly as the bed started to move, the head slowly rising up and the foot dropping down to create a chair.

"So how long was I asleep?" Beckett asked curiously as she felt the bed shift. She had no recollection of time passing, just snippets of odd memories that she couldn't place.

"A little more than 2 weeks," answered Simone. "Not long enough to do permanent damage, but enough to make you wobbly. It's important that in these first few days, you do not try to get out of bed by yourself," she stressed. "We don't want you to fall and reinjure yourself."

"Okay," Beckett nodded as she was about to protest at the turtle's pace of the treatment. Her protest died on her lips when the bed reached the full upright position and the room swam for several minutes. She had never been prone to motion sickness, but the whirling in her head almost made her want to have the bed flat again.

And if she did that, she'd never regain her strength and get back to her life.

At this point, anger at Roy Montgomery fueled her rage and gave her the motivation to stay upright as she took deep breaths to calm the crashing waves.

"Good, good, that's good," encouraged Simone. "Just go slow."

"It's getting better," Beckett said as the room leveled out. Her core muscles felt a little weak, like she hadn't engaged them in a while, which in truth, she hadn't. "I think I'm ready to try standing," she said with a hopeful glance at Simone.

The nurse nodded and spoke to the attendant briefly in French. Then they each placed a supporting arm under Beckett's arms as she stood slowly, willing her quivering legs to cooperate.

"Good, good," said Simone.

Beckett nodded as she placed her full weight on her legs, concentrating on staying upright as beads of sweat formed on her brow.

Simone checked her watch after several minutes and then they lowered Beckett carefully back on the bed.

"I think that's enough for now. We'll try again in an hour and I bet we'll have you walking by tonight," Simone said. "Would you like me to leave it in chair position?"

"Yes, thanks," said Beckett as she leaned back against the top of the bed.

"Now, how about something to eat?" Simone asked cheerfully.

"That would be great," Beckett replied. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten and now that she was awake, her stomach was too and demanding food.

Simone turned to the attendant and told him in French to bring the tray with gelatin and broth from the kitchen.

Beckett was about to protest again – she was much hungrier than what that meager meal would provide – and then thought better of it. She might have an advantage if they didn't know she spoke French and thought they could talk freely in front of her. And that knowledge might help her escape and get back to home.

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Several days later, now that she was free from the wires and tubes, Beckett made another round through the large house, counting the laps as she built up her stamina, mapping the layout.

On her walks, she had found the kitchen, the servants' living quarters, the exercise room, the media room (frustratingly empty of anything that she could use to connect to the outside world), the main ballroom, the small ballroom, the library, and the numerous other bedrooms and bathrooms. She was free to roam wherever she wanted, except outside.

During a visit, Dr. Krish sat her down for a heart-to-heart talk about her precarious situation.

True to his letter, Roy Montgomery had asked Mr. Smith, an old friend of his, to protect Beckett if something should happen to him, to make sure that she would remain safe from the consequences of his misdeed. Montgomery couldn't save her mother, but he could save Beckett even from beyond the grave.

Mr. Smith was well-connected and had the means of keeping Beckett out of the reach of the man Montgomery did not name, the man who would surely kill her if he knew she was alive.

Dr. Krish explained that this house was just a brief stop on her way to a new life, courtesy of the U.S. Department of State. And in that new life, she couldn't have any contact with anyone from her old life.

Final arrangements were being made, but Beckett had to remain inside, away from prying eyes, and that didn't sit well with her until Dr. Krish spelled out succinctly what would happen if she didn't.

'If this man – let's call him the Dragon – if the Dragon finds out that you are alive,' stressed Dr. Krish, 'he will put an end to you – and not only to you but the people you know – your father, your partners at the 12th precinct – in case you've told them something. Maybe even the girl who delivers your newspaper. So I think this is for the best.'

He urged her to have patience. The universe would eventually sort itself out.

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Hindered slightly by the neck brace that Simone insisted she wear except when she showered, Beckett held her wrist up to look at her watch as she paused in her journey.

She had already clocked 2 hours of walking and it was too early for lunch, now more substantial than broth and gelatin, so she headed to her favorite room – the massive library on the north side of the house.

Beckett could sit for hours in one of the comfortable chairs, pouring over Russian and Greek literature or one of the better murder mysteries and spy novels lining the shelves. Loosing herself in a story seemed to take the edge off the situation for a little while.

The newer books were in the front of the library, while the older, more classical books were stored at the back.

She ran her fingers over the spines of the older books as she perused them. Today, she was in the mood for something classical, maybe even slightly depressing, so it would be a choice between _Anna Karenina_ or _War and Peace_ in Russian.

She was tired of waiting, restless in the languid pace that her expatriation seemed to be taking. Neither Simone nor Dr. Krish could give her any details about where she would wind up, only that she would be comfortable and not in any danger.

Beckett picked up a large tome and was about to carry it to her favorite armchair when she heard indistinct voices coming from the back of the library.

She put the book down and walked towards the sound, making sure not to make any noise to alert someone to her presence. She was certain that she was the only one in the library. The house had minimal staff – Simone and the burly assistant whose name had never been given, and one other woman who served as cook and housekeeper. Beckett had never seen anyone else as she paced the halls like a caged tiger.

When she reached the back wall, she realized that the tinny voices were coming from behind a large floor-to-ceiling book case.

She studied the architecture of the room, noting the pattern on the rug and the molding on the ceiling. Both indicated that the room had been divided at some point and a hidden part of the room continued beyond the wall.

Maybe it was a safe room, Beckett thought, but a safe room would probably be sound proof, her cop voice said, and not this noticeable.

A hidden room, then, Beckett thought as she slid her hand along the book case, looking for a latch. She finally found it and then paused – was she making a mistake by opening the door?

She pressed her ear against the wall, listening to the voices. They were still indistinct, but the quality was what you might expect in the observation room while listening through speakers.

She quietly opened the secret panel and looked into the small enclave behind it. The room was no bigger than a closet and contained a steep metal spiral staircase that disappeared below the floor. The first few steps were illuminated by the light from the room she was in.

Beckett leaned forward and could see a soft glow at the bottom of the stairs. The voices were slightly louder.

Not wanting to get stuck in the room while she explored, she picked up a book off of a shelf and used it as a doorstop to stop the door from closing.

Beckett took a first tentative step on the staircase to make sure it would support her and not make any noise, and then slowly crept down the stairs towards the blue glow.

Yes! she thought as she reached the bottom – it was an observation room for a larger room set up with several large screen monitors and computer equipment.

Dr. Krish and the attendant sat in front of the monitors, talking to a man on screen.

"We're all set in case he's stupid enough to show up and gloat," the attendant said.

The man on the screen shook his head. "No, he won't show up in person – it would be too out of place. He'll send someone, just like he did at the 12th, so run facial recognition on the crowd." He paused. "Everything going according to schedule there?"

"Yes," said Dr. Krish. "She hasn't been any trouble."

"Good, see that she isn't," the man nodded as he looked at his watch. "It's starting so I'll let you get back to work."

Dr. Krish and the attendant nodded and turned their attention to the monitors.

The views on the monitors changed to somber scenes shot from different angles – a funeral procession with a horse drawing a wagon holding a casket draped with an American flag.

When she recognized the three men walking behind the casket, Beckett clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle an exclamation of dismay and agony.

Jim Beckett had aged greatly in the few weeks since she had last seen him. He walked stiffly, eyes hidden by sun glasses.

In full dress uniform, Detectives Esposito and Ryan flanked him. Four other officers whom she knew walked behind the trio.

She stood in the room, trembling as she watched the procession arrive at the open grave in the cemetery.

Tears running down her face, her eyes were riveted on her father during the eulogy that Esposito delivered.

She finally lifted her hand up slightly towards his face.

"I'm alive, Dad – I'm still here – you're not really burying me," she whispered as her aunt put a supporting hand on Jim's shoulder as Esposito presented him with the folded flag.

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	3. Chapter 3 Deception

There's Always a Story – XX

 **Summary** : No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story _There's Always a Story_ , so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.

 **AN** : And now it's Tuesday again – where does the time go? (Except for watching the men's high dive event in the Olympics…very impressive. And Michael Phelps has some of the longest arms in the world.) Wow, before you know it, it will be Christmas. Thanks again for all the reviews, follows, and favs.

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 **Chapter 3 – Deception**

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Beckett wasn't sure how long she stood in the room, watching the monitors as the people at … her funeral dispersed until only 4 people were left.

Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie stood with Jim Beckett as he watched the casket being lowered into the ground.

Beckett recognized the plot – it was the one next to her mother's. The enormous granite headstone that she had insisted on getting to honor her mother had room for her mother's name, her father's name, and her name when the time eventually came.

She just didn't think that she'd go before her father.

That shook her back to reality – no matter what Dr. Krish said, she had to get out of here, get back to New York, let them know she was indeed alive, and find whoever had done this. She wouldn't, couldn't rest until she did so.

She turned and quickly walked back up the stairs.

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"Tonight, we have a lovely Coq Au Vin with croissants," said the cook in a French accent as Beckett walked into the dining room, "followed by pistachio financiers."

"I thought it was lunch time," Beckett frowned, looking at her watch.

"Ah, no," said the cook. "It's almost 8 pm. You missed lunch."

Beckett nodded, slightly confused. She didn't think that much time had passed while she was in the room. She tapped the front of the watch and noticed that 2 pm still displayed.

"There you are," said Simone as she walked into the room. "I was getting worried. You missed lunch."

Beckett took a breath and ran a hand through her short, dark hair. "I was reading in the library and must have fallen asleep. And I think my watch is broken. It's been running slow all afternoon."

"Then we'll have to get you a new one," Simone said cheerfully. She shot a glance at the cook as Beckett sat down.

"This smells wonderful as usual, Marguerite," Beckett commented as she placed her napkin in her lap.

"Thank you," the cook answered, smiling proudly. "Just let me know if there's something special you want. I've been told my American dishes are just as good as my French cooking."

"No, that's not necessary," Beckett smiled as she shook her head.

"Well, I've got some good news," said Simone as she walked over to the wine rack.

Beckett's head snapped up but her hopes were crushed when Simone simply said, "Now that you are no longer taking pain medication, you can have some wine with dinner. We have a nice selection of reds – what would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," Beckett replied.

"Ah, this one," Simone said, picking up a decanter.

Beckett looked around. "Is Dr. Krish joining us tonight?"

Simone shook her head. "No, he and Baudin left early this morning. They had urgent business elsewhere and will be gone for several days."

"Thanks," Beckett said, nodding. She paused. "Have you heard anything yet?"

Simone shook her head with a slightly sad smile. "No, but I'll let you know as soon as we do. Now, let's eat up before it gets cold."

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Beckett was so wired that evening that she found sleep impossible and her mind raced, trying to plot a course of action.

Maybe there was a way to get into the computer room and make contact with her dad, or Espo and Ryan. If not them, then maybe the US embassy and let them know what was going on.

She waited until after midnight before quietly opening her door and slipping out into the darkened hallway. There was no light coming from Simone's room so Beckett assumed she had gone to bed.

Beckett paused as she reached the first floor, listening to see if anyone was moving around, and could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen.

Surprised to see light coming from under the door, Beckett quietly approached and stopped by the door. She could hear Marguerite humming to herself as she moved around, clattering dishes.

Beckett quickly took several steps back into a side hallway as the door opened and Marguerite walked out, carrying a large covered basket.

The cook whistled to herself as she walked down the hallway past the library and then stopped in front of a closet that Beckett had found when she was exploring. Marguerite leaned forward to look into the mirror to the side of the door and used one hand to brush through her hair as she looked at her reflection.

Beckett frowned as a green light scanned Marguerite's face and the door opened to reveal the inside of an elevator car. That certainly wasn't there when Beckett had opened the door to check it out.

Marguerite stepped inside and pressed a button.

Beckett waited until the door closed and then raced into the library, heading to the back and opening the secret door.

She quietly crept down the stairs just as Marguerite walked into the computer room where Baudin sat, watching the feeds.

Baudin swiveled in his chair and smiled at Marguerite. "You're late with lunch," he said in a definitely non-French accent. British perhaps, Beckett thought.

Marguerite tsked at him as she laid out the food. "I wouldn't let the wicked witch of the East hear you say that. You know how prickly she is about protocol."

"Yeah, yeah," said Baudin. "Besides, I'm not even here."

"And she could make that permanent," Marguerite reminded him with a slight frown. She looked at the feed. "Anything yet?"

Baudin shook his head as he took a bite of the sandwich and chewed. "Nah. I think Mr. Smith has lost his marbles on this one. No way the Dragon's going to come out of hiding for this."

"Perhaps," said Marguerite.

"Got any wine in there? And maybe that sexy French number?" Baudin asked as he reached for the basket.

Marguerite slapped his hand away. "No wine – you're on duty – and no French maid outfit. I'm saving that for Morocco. To go with this French accent."

"Hmm," Baudin rumbled as he laid the sandwich down and pulled Marguerite towards him. "Then how about a little afternoon delight?"

Marguerite laughed slightly and sat on his lap as she kissed him.

Beckett rolled her eyes at the couple and then quickly walked back up the stairs. She was sure she wouldn't get any more useful information tonight.

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The next night, Beckett was waiting in the hidden room when Marguerite walked in to the computer room with the basket.

"Any luck today?" Marguerite asked.

"Nah," answered Baudin. "Just Mr. Beckett and this guy," he said as he rewound one of the feeds.

"Is that Richard Castle?" Marguerite asked curiously.

"Yeah, you know him?" Baudin asked as he pulled up the man's profile.

"One of New York's most eligible bachelors. He writes murder mysteries – just finished a series of James Bond books," she replied. "What's he doing there?"

Baudin shrugged. "Apparently he knows the mayor of New York and he asked him to write articles about Beckett and Montgomery."

"Does Mr. Smith know?" Marguerite asked.

"He does now," replied Baudin as he pasted the writer's picture into an email.

"What's he doing?" Marguerite asked as she looked at the video. "Is he talking to her grave?"

"Yeah," said Baudin. "Here, listen…" he turned up the speakers so that they could hear what Castle was saying.

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After that, Beckett was in the hidden room each night, listening as Baudin replayed each day's tape for Marguerite.

"Got to give it to him, he's persistent," Marguerite commented.

"Yeah, in a pathetic way," replied Baudin. He was suddenly alert as something on the tape caught his attention. "No – wait – what did he say?"

He rewound it to a particular spot:

" _I know your secret, Kate, and I want you to know that it's safe with me. I took the…items…so your friends wouldn't find them when they go back to your apartment. And I asked your father if he would be okay with me reopening your mother's case—"_

"No, no, no, no, no," Baudin said as he punched a button on the console. "That's not good."

He waited for a few moments as the video feed switched to a man sitting at a desk. "Sir, Mr. Smith, it's me – apparently Detective Beckett was still investigating her mother's death and Castle found the files – he's going to reopen the Johanna Beckett case."

"I see," came the quiet reply. "Well, there's no need to panic. We'll just see how this plays out." He paused thoughtfully. "And maybe this will work in our favor. We've been looking for a way to cut the albatross from around our neck. Call me if anything else comes up and I'll look into things here."

Beckett stepped back against the stair well as a pit of fear grew in her stomach. What Castle was doing – it wasn't safe – they had gotten to her and Montgomery at the precinct and he had a daughter to protect. He wouldn't see it coming.

And she couldn't do anything about it from here. So she had to leave, she decided as she walked out of the hidden room, and the sooner, the better.

# # # # # # # # #

After that day, Beckett started to carefully hoard items she would need for her journey out of here. She would take an extra bottle of water or an extra roll when no one was looking and hide them in her room.

Her return each night to the hidden room to hear what Castle had to say fueled her determination and made her focus.

The plan was simple – walk until she found someone who could help her. She had no clue how far from civilization she was but she was lucky that she spoke the native language and she was confident that she could do it.

Several days later, both Simone and Marguerite were waiting for her when she walked into the dining room for the evening meal.

Marguerite had laid out the fine china on the table along with lit tapers, giving the room a festive atmosphere.

"Good news," said Simone with a bright smile. "Everything has been arranged and tomorrow is moving day."

"Oh," Beckett replied, hiding the fact that this news came at a very bad time.

"I thought you'd be pleased," said Simone. "I know how anxious you've been."

Beckett nodded. "I am – very pleased." She shrugged and smiled slightly. "It's just that it's been a while so I didn't expect it."

"It took time to get all the gears moving," said Simone as she held up a glass of champagne. "So tonight we celebrate – a toast to a new life, a new beginning."

Beckett nodded as she picked up her glass. "To a new life," she said as she clinked glasses with the other two women. She'd just have to leave tonight then.

# # # # # # # # #

"Oh," Beckett moaned as she rolled over in bed and struggled to sit up, holding a hand to her throbbing head.

She didn't remember falling asleep last night, much less going to bed with her clothes on.

And no, she was supposed to be gone now – have already left in her desperate bid for freedom. If they found her now, all her planning would go to waste and she couldn't protect anyone.

She took several deep breaths to quell the queasiness in her stomach and then pushed herself off the bed. If she was quick, maybe there was still time.

She grabbed one of the long sleeve shirts from the dresser and quickly tied the end of each arm and then the bottom and stuffed it with the bottles of water and food she had hidden.

She then tied it to her back to create a faux backpack and walked to the door and opened it slightly, listening.

The house was quiet, so maybe it was still early and no one else was up.

Beckett quickly walked downstairs to the front door and opened it, only to raise her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

She couldn't tell if it was just coming up or going down, but if it was setting, that meant she had slept all day. And if it was evening, why hadn't they woken her up?

Curiosity got the better of her and she walked back to the kitchen and found no one there.

There were dishes in the sink and coffee in the coffee pot, but it was cold.

What the h was going on?

Beckett turned and quickly walked back outside, looking around the front of the chateau. Yes, it was definitely darker out now, so the sun was setting.

The beauty of the area was wasted on her as she looked around, noting the tire impressions in the dirt road that led away from the chateau in the fading light.

Something large and heavy had definitely been here not too long ago – a moving van perhaps? But why would they leave her behind?

Beckett followed the tracks to the blacktopped road and then looked down the way that the muddy tracks led.

They had to be going to a main road and she might be able to flag down a car there, she surmised and started walking at a brisk pace.

# # # # # # # # #

Several miles later, Beckett stopped to catch her breath and balled her fists in frustration. The winding road she was on seemed to lead to nowhere and the tracks had long since faded – in fact, in the bright moonlight, she thought she had seen that group of trees before. She was probably going around in a long circle.

There were no lights in any direction and she didn't hear any road noises, so she was no closer to civilization than when she started out.

Beckett took a sip of water from one of her bottles and decided on her course of action.

At this point, her only option was to go back to the house and see if she could find some way to contact someone from there.

Beckett was about to start back when a loud noise shook the area and she turned towards the direction she had come to see flames in the distance.

The house! No! Or yes, she thought as she started to run towards it. Someone would see the fire and come investigate. She just had to make sure she was there when they did.

# # # # # # # # #

By the time she reached the house, it was totally consumed by the flames, the sparks and flames jumping wildly as the firemen tried their best to keep the fire from spreading into the adjacent woods.

Panting and holding her side, Beckett burst through the trees and stumbled up to one of the fireman standing beside a fire truck.

"Aide – je besoin d'aide," she said breathlessly, leaning over to put her hands against her legs, trying to catch her breath, but the smoke and acrid smell in the area made it hard. "Aidez-moi, s'il vous plaît?"

The man just stared at her as she took a coughing breath to start again. "Les gens d'ici—"

"Ma'am," he said in a heavy North Texas drawl, putting up a hand to stop her in mid-sentence, "do you speak English?"

Beckett frowned at him in confusion. "Of course I do – but why do you? Aren't we near Paris?"

"Yeah, Paris, Texas," the fireman said. "Ma'am, are you hurt? Were you in the house? Did you hit your head?"

She pushed past him and stared at the US and Texas flag decals on the side of the cab of the fire truck, her mouth hanging open.

No, this wasn't happening. But it was and confusion was suddenly replaced by fury. If she had known that she was in the States, they would have never been able to stop her from leaving, so that's why they lied.

"Son of a b..." Beckett ranted, reeling off a litany of profanity that she had learned during her stint in Vice.

# # # # # # # # #


	4. Chapter 4 A Voice from the Grave

There's Always a Story – XX

 **Summary** : No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story _There's Always a Story_ , so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.

 **AN** : And once again, we get to the final chapter. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and fav'ing. And a big thanks to everyone reading my earlier stories. I don't own Castle, only the characters I've made up for the story.

# # # # # # # # # # #

 **Chapter 4 – A Voice from the Grave**

# # # # # # # # # # #

Beckett straightened up wearily and ran a hand through her hair as the door opened and a suit walked in, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. It had been a long night and they had spent hours going over her story in minutiae, although she had left out Montgomery's involvement. She wasn't sure she was ready to face that yet and its implications.

Mitchell "Mitch the Bulldog" Freeman, the special agent in charge of the Dallas branch of the FBI, had earned his nickname by being hard-nosed and all business, his tenaciousness giving most suspects pause for concern as he hunted them down.

But like his nickname, he could be also be friendly and social when the situation called for it. And in this case, he thought it did now that he had been able to verify Beckett's identity. He placed a cup in front of her and then pulled out the chair across the table and sat down.

"Well, Detective Katherine Houghton Beckett, we have confirmed that you really who you say you are, even though you're listed as being officially dead," he stated amicably.

"Yeah, that does put a kink in things," Beckett said as she picked up the cup and took a sip. The heat was welcomed in this cold austere room. "Thank you."

Freeman nodded slightly and then leaned back, studying her. "But there are a couple of things that don't add up," Freeman said with a slight frown because he knew he didn't have all of the puzzle pieces yet. "You said that you were in witness protection – who told you that?"

"Dr. Krish," Beckett replied. "He was there when I woke up at the house. He said that after the attack, the US State Department arranged for me to be taken some place safe where the man they called the dragon couldn't get to me."

"And why was this dragon so interested in you?" Freeman asked curiously.

Beckett took a breath. "He killed my mother," she said simply even though she knew she could face disciplinary actions for what she had been doing. "The case was never solved and I was investigating it. He may have thought I would have found something eventually."

"I see," Freeman said, nodding. He patted his upper lip with his forefinger as he thought. "The problem is that my contacts say that they have no record of you being in the WP, so the real question then becomes who are these people and why did they take you?"

Beckett shook her head. "I don't know who they are. I thought they were with the State department, but they lied about where we were – they were speaking French and said we were near Paris, so I assumed that we were in France. Dr. Krish said it was too dangerous for me to go outside and the windows were painted so I couldn't see outside."

"They didn't give you any reason to doubt them, did they?" Freeman asked.

Beckett paused and shook her head. Because of Montgomery's letter, his knowledge of what had happened, she had every reason to believe what they said was true. She let out a frustrated breath as she wiped an angry tear from her eye. "No, because if I had, there is no way in hell that I would have stayed there."

Freeman nodded again. "Unfortunately, there's nothing left of the house so you're our only clue to finding these people. I'd like you to sit with a forensic artist. We might be able to identify them using facial recognition. You said there was a nurse and cook?" he asked as he took out a notepad and pen.

"Simone and Marguerite. And there was a man called Baudin," Beckett replied.

"Anyone else?" Freeman asked as he made a list.

Beckett nodded. "I saw Baudin talking to a man he called Smith on a video feed in the computer room in the basement. They were concerned when they found out that Richard Castle was reopening my mother's case."

Freeman nodded with a slight smile. "Well, that's one good thing that came out of this. Mr. Castle and Detectives Esposito and Ryan found the evidence to convict Senator William Bracken for your mother's murder."

Stunned, Beckett sat back in the chair. It was finally over – really over – and her mother's killer had been caught after all this time. "Was he the dragon?" she asked.

"Possibly," Freeman replied. "We're looking into his financial records and the people he's associated with. We'll find something."

Beckett nodded. And what if they found a link to Montgomery? She would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Freeman's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I've arranged a room for you to use before you go back to New York. It should be more comfortable than this."

"Thanks," Beckett said. She looked at him questioningly. "Do you know what happened to the house?"

Freeman frowned. "The preliminary report is that the propane tank exploded. It had just been filled up." He looked at her. "You were lucky you weren't there when it happened."

"Yeah," Beckett replied. At this point, she really wouldn't call it a coincidence.

She looked at him, her eyes misting slightly. "But before I do anything else, I'd like to call my father."

"Of course," Freeman said. He pulled out his phone, sat it on the table, and then stood. "I'll give you some time alone. Just open the door when you're finished and Gwen will show you to the room."

Beckett nodded as she picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart.

It rang twice before Jim Beckett answered. "Beckett," he said in a toneless voice, a voice that Beckett remembered all too clearly from the time after her mother had died before he had learned to smile again.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Hello?" Jim Beckett asked. "Is anyone there?"

Beckett swallowed thickly as tears ran down her face. "Daddy, it's me – Kate – Katie Bug," she said, stammering. "I'm alive. Can you come get me?"

# # # # # # # # #

"I'm home," Beckett said breathlessly as she and her father walked to the town car waiting for them at the small private airport.

Jim Beckett nodded gratefully as he squeezed her hand.

The two had been almost inseparable since Jim had arrived in Dallas to fly back to New York with his daughter and the smile hadn't left his face since their tearful reunion.

"So what do you want to do first?" Jim asked.

Beckett thought for a moment. "Would you be mad if I said go to the precinct?"

At Jim's worried frown, she quickly added, "I want to tell Espo, Ryan, and Lanie in person."

Jim nodded. "I understand."

"But there's some place I'd like to stop first…"

# # # # # # # # #

Beckett stood in the cemetery, looking at Montgomery's grave.

When she asked, Jim had stayed in the car, respecting her privacy but keeping a watchful eye on his daughter.

"Thanks to you, I'm alive," she whispered, "but because of you, my mother is dead, and I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that."

She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "You were my mentor, Captain, and my friend, but maybe you were just there to throw me off track – to keep me from finding out who killed my mother.

"And maybe you just thought you were protecting me – that Bracken was too big to be taken down. But in the end, he wasn't."

She let out a long exhale and shook her head. "So we'll just leave it at that. Goodbye, Captain."

Beckett turned and walked to another part of the cemetery, not far from Montgomery's grave.

She steeled herself as she stopped and looked at the granite monument. They would have to get her name erased – it would mar the marble, but at this point, she didn't care. She was just glad not to be using it.

"Mom, they caught him," she said, smiling slightly. "The man who murdered you. One of your favorite writers – Richard Castle – found the evidence. Senator Bracken is going away forever."

Beckett looked up as a car pulled up behind the town car and stopped. She froze as Richard Castle stepped out – speaking of the devil…

Beckett quickly ducked behind the headstone as the writer leaned into his car to take out a large bouquet of flowers and then walked towards the grave.

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **Really The End – Mic Drop – Thanks for reading**_


	5. Ch 5 A Voice from the Grave Part Deux

There's Always a Story – XX

 **Summary** : No, this is not the smut version – that would be XXX. This is the version of what happened to Beckett during my story _There's Always a Story_ , so you might want to read that first for context. And once again, the death of a major character is mentioned. Definitely AU.

 **AN** : Well, I just thought I was finished and then you asked nicely to have the conversation. It's in the Chapter 8 of _There's Always a Story_ (already published) but this version is told from Beckett's POV.

# # # # # # # # # # #

 **Chapter 5 – A Voice from the Grave Part Deux**

# # # # # # # # # #

As the writer approached, Beckett curled up behind the monument, holding her breath and trying not to give herself away. She couldn't figure out why she was suddenly struck with a bad case of shyness and that wasn't like her – she definitely wasn't a shrinking violet.

Maybe it was because Castle knew so much about her while she knew very little about him. But then again, she felt like she knew him from the brief conversations she had overheard and from the fact that he had found out something deeply personal about her and had only shared it when it became necessary. And maybe her shyness came from the fact she had been eavesdropping and that made her feel guilty about knowing what she knew?

'Oh, yeah, these people were recording your deeply personal conversations, and I just happened to listen in,' played in her mind.

She straightened slightly as Castle began to speak.

"Hey, it's me again – I bet you thought I forgot about you," Castle said as he knelt and laid a large bouquet of roses, lilies, and baby's breath in front of the headstone. "I didn't. It's just that I've been very busy the last few days connecting all the dots."

He stood and then said quietly, "We did it, Kate – you and me – and, well, Epso and Ryan – and Captain Gates – she got involved when we told her what we found."

He took a breath. "We got justice for you and your mother and arrested the man who arranged the murders – Senator William Bracken. I'm sure you've heard of him. He thought you and Montgomery were threats so that's why he had you killed. And your mother.

"When he was with the DA's office, he found out that 3 dirty cops were kidnapping mobsters and holding them for ransom. An undercover FBI agent was accidentally killed by one of them. Bracken made the whole thing go away and blackmailed the cops into giving him a huge portion of the take. He framed a mobster named Joe Pulgatti for the murder.

"But several years later, Pulgatti decided he didn't like prison and contacted your mother about reopening his case. She did, and Bracken took her out so she couldn't expose him.

"That's what was on the tape we found – Bracken giving the order for her murder. I don't know who made the tape or how your mother got it, but she hid it in the elephants. I don't think she knew what it was, otherwise, things would have turned out so differently."

Castle paused, smiling slightly. "And it didn't help Bracken's case when the man hired to find all of the evidence rolled on him when he was caught. Cole Maddox – Esposito says that he's a ghost because the only information we can find on him is recent; he didn't exist until a year ago.

"And Maddox may well be a ghost because he broke into my loft which I was assured had a security system to rival Ft. Knox. But that's where his plan fell apart – the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. We got great pictures of him and the key tag to car he had rented.

"Espo and Ryan were able to trace the key tag and use the GPS to locate him yesterday. Oh, and apparently, he broke into your apartment because he took your underwear and left it at my place to make me look bad.

"We only had Maddox on the B&E's, but he rolled on Bracken the moment the Feds swooped in to take him into custody and wanted to make a plea deal. But Jackson Hunt, the FBI agent sent to pick Maddox up, wasn't interested and hauled him away this morning.

"And that's not all. After Maddox was arrested, copies of bank statements detailing the payments to one of Bracken's offshore accounts were delivered to Captain Gates by courier. Because of that, the FBI has forensic accountants examining Bracken's financial records. That should be enough to put him away for the rest of his life."

Castle's eyes brow knit together as he thought for a moment. "That's the good news, Kate. But there's also bad news,"

Beckett squeezed her eyes shut because she knew what was coming next and hadn't come to grips with it yet.

"Raglan was the lead officer on your mother's murder – he was one of the dirty cops. Gary McAllister was the second, but the third dirty cop – we think it was Roy Montgomery. Espo and Ryan looked at Raglan's arrest records from back then and found that some of the names of the officers involved had been changed. And a retired police man has a picture of Roy, Raglan, and McAllister together from back then.

"It's all circumstantial and only Espo, Ryan, and I know about this, and I don't know what to do," Castle said with a sigh. "If this gets out, it will ruin Montgomery's reputation – he'll only be remembered for that, not for any of the good that he did. And Evelyn and his daughters will lose his benefits, not to mention what it would do to the 12th.

"My head tells me to tell the truth, write a follow-up expose on Bracken and the dirty cops, but I'd probably lose my street cred as a journalist since I wrote the article about Montgomery in the first place – good thing I'm a novelist.

"But my heart tells me to let this one go – what good is going to come of it now? The bad guy has been caught and he's not getting away. " He knelt and ran his fingers gently over the engraved words. "I've talked to you so often – I wish you were here to tell me what to do."

Beckett took a deep breath and knew in that moment that she had forgiven Montgomery for what he had done.

"Then do what your heart tells you to do," she said.

"And my heart tells me not to do anything stupid," Castle responded and then stopped, glancing around wildly at the mostly deserted cemetery. He leaned closer to the headstone and whispered incredulously, "I heard you, right? Are you talking to me from…up there? Have I made contact beyond the grave?"

"No, from here," Beckett said as she leaned out from where she was sitting behind the headstone.

Castle was so startled that he fell backwards, thumping heavily onto the grass. "You're alive," he finally gasped out. "Oh my god, you're alive."

Beckett stood, brushing the grass from the knees of her jeans. "Yes, thanks to you," she said, giving him a slight smile and offering him a hand up. "You brought me back to life."

"But how?" Castle exclaimed as he stood up. "Where have you been?"

Beckett worried her bottom lip before speaking. "Witness protection…sort of. Roy…" she swallowed as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "he thought Bracken would do something like this eventually and made sure I'd be safe. So they faked my death and took me to Paris."

"France?" interjected Castle.

Beckett shook her head. "No, Texas." She looked at the flowers. "Are those for me?"

Castle looked slightly startled again and then reached down for the bouquet and handed it to her. "Well, they were for the dead you, but they work just as well for the alive you too."

He stared at her as she ducked her face to smell the flowers.

"Jim – your dad? Does he know?" he asked suddenly.

Beckett nodded. "Yeah. When I was rescued, the FBI flew him down to meet me."

"What about Espo and Ryan? Do they know?" Castle asked. "Lanie's going to have a fit."

Beckett shook her head. "No, I wanted to come here first because I thought you'd be here."

Castle smiled slightly as he offered her his arm. "Then why don't we go rock their world?"

"I'd like that," Beckett replied as they walked off.

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **AN: Really The End This Time**_ except that if you read the last chapter of _There's Always a Story_ , you know that they start investigating cases together because Castle tells Beckett that she arrested the wrong man in the Allison Tisdale case. **Mic Drop – Elvis has left the building. Thanks again for reading. I'd say "Until the Fall" but that's not happening this year. Sad face.**


End file.
